Nagi, Chigiri & Barou~♥

SIR YOU ARE VERY SEXY

Chris Evans starring as Steve ‘The World is Your Runway’ Rogers AVENGERS: INFINITY WAR | 2018

I love choso and sukuna

What's Your Favourite Scary Movie?

Synopsis: in which the jjk men are your roommates in a modern au and you've just watched a horror movie Warnings: cursing, some gory descriptions of movie scenes, mostly fluff and crack, not proofread Featuring: Gojo, Geto, Choso, Toji, Nanami, Sukuna Word Count: 3.2k

Gojo:

He yelps, hands flying. 

“That’s the third jumpscare in five minutes, why do they hate us?”

You laugh, popping some popcorn in your mouth. He’s got the bowl in his lap as you two share a blanket, thighs pressed together, and his arm’s strung at the back of the sofa. Admittedly, you’re sharing a moment that is way too intimate for roommates, but neither of you point it out.

The movie is terrifying. Somehow, everything looks real, and the plot is so captivating you genuinely feel like you’re a character being chased by the slasher. It sets an odd feeling of dread in your stomach. 

Throwing a popcorn in the air, he catches it perfectly and grins at you, expecting praise. You roll your eyes and bury yourself deeper under the blanket. Not even he can distract you from the allure of the horror movie. 

Eventually, the movie ends, and your hands are still shaking. Beside you, Satoru yawns with a stretch, shirt riding up to reveal his hard abs. You poke it. He writhes. 

“Hey! Keep your hands off the merchandise.”

Giggling, you mess up his hair and bid him goodnight. He grumbles complaints but otherwise returns to his room too, a soft smile of his lips as he waves dramatically.

There are lots of shadows in your room. You never noticed it before; it’s all you can see now. Your eyes dart from surface to surface, frantically as if monsters would genuinely pop out. It’s ridiculous. You’re a grown adult. 

Grabbing your phone, you text your roommate. You ask if you can sleep in his room tonight. Through the wall you hear a muffled yell. Something that sounds oddly like, ‘hell yeah’.

Half expecting a flirty message, you’re pleasantly surprised he doesn’t tease you too much and says yes. 

You don’t waste any time. 

Rushing to his room, you don’t need to knock because somehow, he senses you and opens the door, a goofy smile on his lips. 

“I’ve been waiting for my moment to shine,” he admits. “I knew you’d crawl into my bed sooner than later.”

You shove at his chest and roll your eyes at his exaggerated moan of pain. Climbing into bed, you make yourself comfortable, plumping up a pillow. He follows right behind you, jumping on the bed and laughing as you both bounce. 

“Don’t be such a child, Satoru.”

He makes a noise of indignation. “Says the scaredy cat next to me?”

The light’s off and your eyes have adjusted. And despite his presence, you don’t feel safe enough to sleep. There are still shadows and faint noises. You’re painfully aware of every creak, every gust of wind, and every thrum of car engines in the street. 

“Still can’t sleep, roomie?” Satoru whispers. He’s a lot closer than you realise but his warm breath does ease your anxiety a little. 

Shuffling, you turn to face him. “Don’t mention this in the morning.”

Without waiting for a response, you throw an arm and a leg over him, resting your head on his chest. He lays deathly still, tense for a second but then relaxes and wraps an arm around you too. 

“I totally will, y’know that, right?”

“Shut up, Satoru.”

He lands a wet kiss atop your head and rubs your back, cooing like a mother. With a feminine voice, his final words are, “Sleep well, my little angelkins.”

How your eyes haven’t gotten permanently stuck in a rolling position you don’t know. 

Geto:

Nodding his head, he studies the screen with mild interest. He isn’t really a movie person, but he never passes up these nights with you. Having seen stellar reviews of this new horror movie, you were excited to watch it with Suguru, hoping to see him be startled for once. 

He doesn’t budge. He doesn’t even wince. 

Unlike you. 

Not much of a talker, he doesn’t reply to your frantic complaints about how the characters need to stop saying ‘let’s split up’. Legs crossed, he drums a finger against his lips, watching you more than the screen, though you don’t notice. 

He can see the way you’re trembling, so very sensitive to every noise and movement. He’s finding this so terribly amusing, but he keeps his thoughts to himself. 

Once the movie ends, you part ways — Suguru with his hands in his hoodie pockets, humming, and you with your eyes flitting to the doors and windows. 

“Goodnight, pretty,” he says.

You mutter it back. 

As soon as you lock your door, you rush to the window of your room, pulling at it to ensure it’s securely locked. Satisfied, you sit on your bed eyeing the damn thing. What if you loosened it?

You check again, pulling harder and longer this time. It rattles loudly. Your phone pings.

Suguru’s asking what all the noise is. You explain and his replies only set you even more on edge. He reminds you to check under your bed and when you glance down at it you see only darkness in the gap. A gap big enough for a man to hide under.

Just as soon as he gives you the go-ahead, you run to his room, pushing the door open and jumping into bed, knees knocking into his back. He groans and you pat him apologetically. 

“You’re really scared, aren’t you,” he marvels. He’s still wearing his hoodie; it is cold tonight. You clutch it and hold him tightly. His comforting smell eases your nerves, and you let go of the tension in your shoulders just a little. “Don’t worry, pretty. I got you.”

“Thanks, Suguru,” you mumble, eyes flickering shut. 

He sighs, arm winding around his front to hold your hand which rests on his side. “What are friends for?”

Fast asleep already, you don’t hear the bitter tone of his words.

Choso:

Your friend had recommended a movie they said kept them up all night. Thinking you wouldn’t be bothered, you set it up for movie night with Choso. Even if it doesn’t scare you, it will scare him. And that’s even better. 

Very quickly, not even five minutes in, he’s clinging to your side. One hand holds yours, squeezing at every jumpscare whilst the other rests on your bare knee. You’re only wearing shorts, and you knew your roommate would jump at the chance to cop a feel. Well, you don’t mind. 

His fingers press into the fat of your thigh, but he’s not even looking at you. Choso’s genuinely captivated by the movie, gasping and grimacing like he’s a director’s dream audience. Those fingers dance and drum and rise on your leg. You smack it every time he goes too high. 

He pouts when you do.

When the movie finishes, you ruffle his hair. It’s still wet from his shower, and he hadn’t tied it up into his typical pigtails. Looking up at you, he gives you puppy eyes and before he can ask, you give him a playful ‘sweet dreams, Choso’ before you disappear into your room. 

Just as the door clicks shut, he texts you. 

He’s practically begging for you to grant him mercy, to come and sleep in his bed. Sighing, you agree, knowing full well his hands will wander. But fine. It’s not like you hate it. 

Walking into his room, you sigh when you see he’s got a lamp on and his duvet is halfway down his body, purposefully, you’re willing to bet, if the fact that he had stripped himself of his shirt is anything to go by. 

“Choso, tell me you didn’t take off your shirt because I was coming.” You sigh, exasperated. 

Lying there with an innocent smile, he blinks up at you. “I wouldn’t.”

Oh, but he totally would, the mischievous little thing. 

Throwing caution to the wind, you climb into bed with him regardless, falling down with a huff. Just as your head hits the pillows, he’s scooping you up and tangling his limbs with yours. Ignoring your groans, he lays his head on your chest, nuzzling there with a contented hum. 

“Goodnight!”

“Don’t ‘goodnight’ me, Choso. Get off,” you demand. 

His reply?

To hold you tighter. 

You can’t fight back so you let him have this victory. Just this once. Even when a hand creeps under your shirt to rest on your ribcage, you don’t say a word. He’s such a pain in the ass but he’s an adorable pain in the ass. 

However, when his hand dares creep up a little higher, you smack your head against his. “Don’t you dare or else I’m going back to my own room.”

He mumbles into your chest, “Meanie.”

Days later, when you bring up his sensitivity to horror movies to his little brother, Yuji, the boy can only look confused, head tilting at you. 

“But my big bro loves horror movies?”

The bastard got you.

Toji:

You scream for the fifth time.

“Oh my god! Why am I seeing his literal intestines?”

Your roommate snorts. “You’ll scream at the drop of a fucking pin.”

He had chosen the vilest snuff film to ever exist on the planet. That’s probably not even an exaggeration. Every scene is full of blood and guts and dead bodies. You feel like you’re going to throw up. He, on the other hand, is laughing like he’s watching a comedy instead. 

“Stop glaring at me. Y’r missing the best bits,” he says. The ‘best bits’ in question is someone getting their head chopped off. Fed up, you excuse yourself. “Oh, come on. ’s not that bad.”

You flip him off. 

Hours later, you know he’s in bed. You are too. But you aren’t anywhere near sleepy. In fact, you’re wide awake. 

You can’t get the sight of pools of blood out of your mind. It’s all you can see. That and brain chunks. You’re definitely going to throw up. Shoving the covers off you text him a complaint. His replies only piss you off further. 

Tomorrow you’re going to hide his car keys. 

Somewhere in the apartment, you hear a clatter. You’re sure of it. There was absolutely a noise. Jolting upright, you feel the hairs on the back of your neck rise. Without waiting for another sign, you make a run for it, bolting to his room. 

After knocking a couple times, he opens the door with a deadpan look. It screams, ‘are you fucking serious?’

And you are. You absolutely are serious. Seeing that pathetic look on your face, he rolls his eyes with a groan lets you in. 

“How old are ya again?”

Shaking, you swear, “I heard a noise. Like an actual noise.”

“So? If there was a killer, ya totally should do the right thing and sacrifice yourself. For the betterment of me, of course.”

You shove at him. “You’re such a prick.”

He rakes a hand through his hair and it’s only now that you realise, he’s just in boxers. His shoulders are broad, abs and arms flexing with the movement and you feel your mouth water at the trail of hair that disappears into his underwear. You’re practically drooling at the sight of his thick thighs, bare and so muscular. 

“Stop eye-fucking me and get to sleep, brat.”

You stop staring. 

Lying side by side, you look up at the ceiling, hands drumming on your stomach. It’s hard to ignore the warmth he’s emanating and the way his masculine scent is filling your nose. 

“Be honest, Fushiguro.” At the sound of your voice, he groans. “You chose that movie to fuck with me, didn’t you?”

“Go to fucking sleep or I’m kicking your dumb ass out.”

You prod his bicep, mostly for your own benefit. “Just tell me the truth. I won’t get mad.”

Swatting your hand away, he growls, “No, I fucking didn’t. Happy now?”

You nod and let out a breath, sinking into the mattress and feeling ready to accept sleep. That is, until he opens his big fat mouth and you’re getting riled up all over again. 

“I totally did, actually.”

“I knew it!”

Nanami:

This was your own fault. 

You chose a stupid horror movie just because it was trending. Now, you’re practically on Kento’s lap, burying your face into his neck at even the mildest of scenes. He doesn’t complain. 

“Are you sure you wouldn’t prefer another film? It’s not too late to change,” he kindly offers.

Stubbornly, you shake your head. “No. Let’s finish this.”

Pushing his glasses up, he doesn’t fight you. He himself isn’t a fan of horror movies but he isn’t particularly vulnerable to jumpscares. Kento has always been a rational man, after all. He knows the blood is fake, he can tell when a shot is setting up for a plot twist, and he can already tell who will survive in the end. 

Which is why he makes the perfect movie buddy — he grounds you. His firm hand rubs soothingly on your back, muttering against your head when the scary scenes are done, and he even warns you when he senses another one building. 

He’s always so sweet and so supportive, you never dispute it when your friends joke that he’s practically your boyfriend. And sure, you would absolutely love it if he was, but maybe every kind act is just a reflection of who he is, rather than how he feels about you.

The movie ends and you’re left reeling.

“I can’t believe they killed everyone but just that one girl. She did nothing the entire time!”

Kento chuckles, folding up the blanket. “I believe she is, what they call, ‘the final girl’. So, I suppose she’s already served her purpose by existing.”

You offer to tidy up too, but he shoos you away, reminding you that it’s already late and you have lots to do the next day. With an appreciative smile, you give him a goodnight hug like you do every night and return to your room. 

You don’t stay there for long. 

Unable to stop ruminating on it, you text Kento to ask if the front door’s locked. He says it is. It’s his routine to double check and he does it without failure every night, but you just can’t help but worry it isn’t. Eventually, the fear that it might not be locked, or that it somehow became unlocked, won over you. 

There’s no way you’re going to check yourself. You ask Kento if you can sleep in his room and of course he doesn’t say no. 

His bedside lamp is on, and he’s sat up, reading a book. He gives you a warm smile and pats the bed. You’re a little disappointed he’s fully clothed but you keep that to yourself. 

Once beside him, you lie there, staring up at his face. He isn’t the least bit bothered by the terrifying movie; none would be able to tell he even watched one. Nanami Kento is a rock. Solid and unyielding. 

“Just let me finish this chapter and I’ll turn the light off,” he says. 

You shake your head. “It’s okay. Read as long as you want. Actually, do you mind reading to me? Your voice is so soothing, and I don’t think I can fall asleep otherwise.”

Gentle eyes fall on you and when something soft passes through his eyes, he smiles faintly, the golden flow of his lamp bringing out his youth. And he begins reading out every word on his page, low voice filling the room. 

You can’t recall if you fell asleep three pages later or two whole chapters later, but you do, movie long forgotten. 

Sukuna:

You’re onto him. 

The devil incarnate picked a stupidly gory horror movie. It’s so ridiculous, in fact, you almost mistook it for satire. But it isn’t. He’s trying to make you crack, to watch you squirm because apparently, he has nothing better to do. 

When the seventh jumpscare comes and you don’t flinch, he scoffs. “You watched this shit before?”

“No,” you say.

With thirty minutes still left, he turns the TV off and grumbles as he disappears into his room, the door slamming particularly loud. You sigh. He is so predictable. Truth is, the movie did scare you a little, but not enough to lose this little game you’ve been playing with him. 

At a leisurely pace, you go over your routine, humming a tune as he texts you. The man is always so angry. He really should get laid or something. Better yet, he should actually murder someone like his nature dictates. Maybe then he’ll get off your ass. 

When he threateningly texts that he’s coming to you, you can only pinch your nose bridge and open the door before he kicks it down. What you see on the other side only gives you a bigger headache — he’s only in boxers, muscular body on show, his tattoos highlighting every ridge. 

He pushes past you and gets himself settled into bed, shoving your plushie off the bed and it rolls by your feet. You pick it up and dust it off, placing it your desk chair instead, knowing he’ll just kick it off, or worse, if you place it back on the bed. 

“Hurry the fuck up,” he orders, one arm bent behind his head and the other lying straight across your pillow. 

You roll your eyes and climb in despite his stupid attitude. Trying to move his arm, you fail spectacularly; it doesn’t even move an inch. The thing is heavy as hell and his smug ass face knows it. He grunts though when your head falls onto it with more force than necessary. 

You turn your bedside lamp off. 

Encased in darkness, you can only do your best to ignore his presence, with very little success. He’s more on your side than his and he radiates heat like a furnace. The feeling of his hard body against your sides is doing nothing but distract you from seeking sleep. 

You really shouldn’t let him get away with his shit. 

“You call me the pyscho but you didn’t even blink at all that fucking bullshit,” he snarls, breaking the dull silence.

“It really wasn’t that scary, Sukuna.”

That arm you’re resting on curls, wrapping around your head until you’re being held against his chest in a headlock. He whispers against your ear, squeezing threateningly and growling, “You aren’t scared of me?”

You know you should be. He’s proven time and time again there are no lengths he wouldn’t go to prove a point. You’ve seen firsthand the destruction he can cause, the pain he can inflict, and his devil may care attitude. 

He’s a loose cannon. 

“Just go to sleep, weirdo,” you reply, smacking his forearm. 

Sukuna laughs. He actually laughs. You feel it rumble under your head, vibrations reaching your own chest and your eyes flutter shut. 

“You’re lucky you’re fucking adorable, you little brat.”

His threats always fall on deaf ears with you; they no longer hold any weight. Not since you’ve seen all the ways he’d go above and beyond for you. In his own freaky way, he’s shown he cares many times. You can’t possibly be scared of someone who feels as soft as he does.

You fall asleep in his arms, a ghost of something soft grazing your cheek.

CAPTAIN AMERICA FU-

Steve

Summary: Steve’s never had a blowjob and could you really consider yourself a friend if you didn’t suck his dick?

Warnings: 18+, praise kink?, oral m!receiving, smut

“You’ve never…” your words dying down as you waved your hands for emphasis, letting the silence fill the gaps of your question.

Steve cheeks darkened under your gaze and he licked his bottom lip before answering. “Well, I’ve been busy.” His excuse seeming lame to him when they fell from his lips but it was true. Captain America and all that. He took another sip of his drink.

Keep reading

MY TRIO THEY'RE REUNITED DO NOT SEPERATE !!!!!!

Yes I like this alot

*audhdfies your kagehina*

This is incredibly relatable because my love language is also sharing food. You want my fries? Take all of them babe. Oh you want my mash potatoes? Have at it sweetie.

bucky doesn’t share food- b. barnes

pairings: bucky barnes x reader, platonic!sam wilson x reader, platonic!!natasha romanoff x reader, platonic!steve rogers x reader, platonic!sam wilson x bucky barnes

warnings: cursing, i think that’s all?? this is a crackfic lol

about: based off friends, bucky doesn’t share food.

god, you hated when sam was right.

you despised how he would shove it in your face for two weeks and parade around the compound like he just won the fucking lottery or something.

Keep reading

Boyfriend!Bucky AHHHHHHH

baby- b. barnes

pairings: bucky barnes x reader

warnings: it’s really all fluff, just intense mutual pining and flirting

about: request! Bucky and reader have tension with their crush on each other but are too stubborn to make a move. One day reader calls him by his Initials (B.B) in conversation but Bucky mishears it as “baby” and had to do a double take ?

you don’t seem to realize the blue eyes on you as you strap knives to your thighs, checking your weapons before you move to hide them along your body. cerulean irises follow your every movement, dragging on the shape of your thighs as you snap a gun into place on your hip. sam can notice you’ve caught him by the way you seem to take longer to adjust the holster along your thigh, running your fingers along your suit-covered skin longer than he’s ever seen you take.

bucky seems entranced, eyeing your hands as they move with sharp blades as you observe them in the light, a gentle index trailing over the sharp side, your lip quirking when you’re satisfied. he follows your hand as it goes to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear, then as it loads a gun.

sam thinks how great you are with weapons is hot, too, but he doesn’t spend the entire quinjet ride staring at you.

he elbows bucky, raising an eyebrow at him when he finally tears his attention off of you—a few seconds late, might sam add. “you’re staring,” sam lets him know.

bucky shrugs, “she’s my friend.”

“she’s mine, too. ‘don’t catch me starin’ at her, do you?”

bucky turns back to you, “not since last time.”

sensing sam on the verge of responding like a smart ass, bucky stands, stepping over to you, swiping one of your favorite knives from the table next to you. your eyes only flicker up to him to make sure it is him before you look back down at the gun you’re cleaning, a smile making its way to your face.

“why don’t you do this before missions? like a responsible adult?” bucky asks, beginning to twirl the knife in his hands, you can’t help how your eyes catch on the movements of his fingers, breath catching for a moment before you force yourself to pay attention to what you’re doing.

“like you?” you ask, shaking your head when he shrugs.

“hardly’d call you a ‘responsible adult,’” you grin, remembering a few weeks prior, when bucky had set out all of the things he was planning on using today to clean since he “hadn’t in a while.” you can also recall him sticking his metal fingers in the toaster and nearly electrocuting himself, having to make his way to shuri shortly after.

bucky grunts, stopping his playing with your knife, “now why wound me like that, doll?”

you laugh, putting the gun you were cleaning and reaching for your dagger, grabbing the blade half and poking bucky in the chest with the handle, “i can’t wound you any worse than you can wound yourself, mister i-get-myself-stabbed-every-three-days.”

“worth it to see you play nurse. you get cute all worried.” your face heats, shaking your head.

“yeah? maybe i should get stabbed then, see how cute you are.”

“no, no, no, no getting stabbed. i’ll spend every second right next to you if i hav’ta to make sure.”

“good,” you nod, “i’m planning on doing that anyways seeing your history.”

“and i’m irresistible and you’re unable to say away,” bucky adds with a wink.

“that, too.”

-

natasha raises a groomed eyebrow at the sight of you and bucky behind the island in the kitchen, cocking her head as she observes you offer a spoon of nutella to the super soldier. from her place on the couch, she purses her lips when you dip your finger in the chocolate, about to lick it off yourself when bucky suddenly does it for you. you laugh, lightly pushing him away and teasingly reprimanding him with the spoon in your hand. bucky shrugs, his eyes dragging over the way you take the spoon for yourself, continuing to do what you were.

shaking her head, natasha turns back, deciding she has to do something about you two if the both of you continue like this as you have for the past few months. as sweet as it was to see the two people who most deserved love get it, it was getting painful to watch you be so into each other without doing anything about it because you “weren’t sure if he feels the same way.” she’d rolled her eyes at you then, and she would now.

“bucky!” you laugh, natasha not even bothering to turn around. you blink up at bucky, accusing eyes settling on the playful glint in the sea blue of his irises. he smiles in the way that makes butterflies erupt in your stomach, lets you take a peek into the teasing personality he’d gotten stripped away from him all those unfair years ago.

“oops, doll. accident,” bucky shrugs, raising a hand up to your chin again, a tender thumb reaching to swipe the chocolate he’d rubbed on you off of your nose. his palm is warm against your skin, leaving a trail of gentle heat that rushes into your cheeks.

“yeah, sure.” you scoff out, blinking away the daze you had been caught in, his lips frozen in your mind. gently shaking your head, you go back to what you were doing, “about as much of an accident as this will be.”

“what wi—”

he gets cut off by a clementine you throw at his chest, forehead crinkling, the glimmer back in his eyes as he looks down at his chest where the fruit impacted, then back up at you. nodding, he begins taking slow steps at you, immediate defensiveness falling from your lips when you realize what he’s doing.

“you started this,” you point out, beginning to back away and then quickly stumbling your way out of the kitchen when he speeds out, hands stretching out to grab at you, only able to graze your waist, his fingers curled around air. he quickens, too, chasing you out of the kitchen and leaving your snack there, laughter echoing through the compound’s halls as he catches you, spinning you around by your hips to hug you close to him and smudge more nutella on your nose.

natasha shakes her head from the couch, “idiots.”

-

the gigantic television in front of you is playing how to lose a guy in ten days, your attention only half on it but your heart fully in it as you play with bucky’s hair. his head is on your lap, watching the movie with furrowed brows, asking you questions as it goes. if he’s completely honest, he’s paid attention to maybe a third of the movie in total, and he couldn’t tell you the answers you’d told him in response to the questions he’d made up with whatever he had access to in the scene, he was only able to concentrate on the feeling of your fingers in his hair and just wanted to hear your voice.

the popcorn bag next to his head crinkles when you stick your hand inside, shoulders dropping when you realize it’s empty, “can you make some more popcorn?”

“uh huh,” bucky hums, barely registering the question until you remove your touch and he realizes he has to get up. internally groaning becausw he didn’t realize it, he stands, stretching.

“d’you want me to pause it?”

“no need, doll, you can explain if anything important happens. sounds better in your voice anyways.”

you roll your eyes, reaching for your glass of water, the cold crystal up to your lips when you realize you’re nearly finished with it. you lean back, “bb, can you also get me some more water, please?”

you’re too concentrated on the lines in the movie to catch the moment of silence from bucky’s end, his brows furrowed as he processes your words, baby? as in boyfriend baby?

“uh, sure, angel,” he replies awkwardly, cringing at himself for being so slow at his response.

you choke on the last of the water when you hear the term of endearment, a hand coming up to your chest, “what?” you croak, turning to him. you’d only ever heard him call you doll, something that drove you insane already, but you figured was something casual for him, but angel? hell, your boyfriends hadn’t said anything sweeter than babe.

“i said—sure, i’ll get you some water,” bucky replies, hesitant in repeating the nickname even if you started it.

“you called me angel,” you explain slowly, “that’s very… boyfriend-y?-”

“you called me babe!” bucky defends, “that’s in girlfriend one-oh-one.”

“i didn’t—”

“i don’t mind it, i think i actually like it better than bucky.”

your arguments die on your tongue, your face heating immediately, only able to let out a strangled sound, “gh.”

“what?”

“bb,” you repeat when you get your bearings, “bucky barnes, bee, bee? your initials?”

“oh,” bucky realizes quietly, squeezing his eyes shut in embarrassment, “oh.”

“but,” you start nervously, “if you say you don’t mind…”

He has reached dad joke status

Your husband, Toji, could really be the worst sometimes.

He was in the middle of helping you cut vegetables up for dinner in the kitchen, when, out of the blue, Little Megumi came scampering in. Megumi reached his dad's side, and, trying to take a look at what was going on, stood on his tippy toes and peered at the counter.

Noticing that food was being prepared, Megumi blurted out, with no humor in his voice, "Hurry up."

Originally, Toji thought about scolding Megumi on his way of talking to adults, when, he got a brilliant idea. "Why?"

"Because I'm hungry, duh."

"Hi, Hungry," Toji looked down at Megumi with a grin, "I'm Dad."

Megumi gave his dad the biggest side glance known to man, and scoffed. "Hmph, I'm serious."

"You're not Serious; you're Hungry."

Megumi rolled his eyes, annoyed at his ridiculous dad. "Are you Kidding Me?"

"No," Toji shook his head, trying to hide his laughter, "I'm Dad."

I saw this one idea from an acc and i LOVED IT. Bluelock boys x football player reader?? Thank uuu

“𝐦𝐲 𝐠𝐟 > 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐫𝐞 𝐭𝐞𝐚𝐦”

a/n: soccer is such a hot sport

ft. itoshi rin, shidou ryusei, itoshi sae, isagi yoichi, bachira meguru, mikage reo, nagi seishiro, tabito karasu, otoya eita, yukimiya kenyu

𝐢𝐭𝐨𝐬𝐡𝐢 𝐫𝐢𝐧

rin doesn’t do loud cheering. no standing ovations or dramatic fist pumps. nah, he’s the type to sit in the stands with his arms crossed, expression blank, looking like he doesn’t even care. but anyone with half a brain could tell by the way his eyes are locked on you, laser-sharp and focused, that he cares more than anyone else in the stadium. when you score, his lips twitch into the tiniest smirk, and he barely nods, but his fingers tighten around his phone, snapping a photo of you mid-goal. and when you jog over to the sidelines for a water break, he casually offers you his bottle with a deadpan, “good shot.” but the way he holds it out, already uncapped, like he was waiting for you? yeah, he’s been holding that bottle for the last ten minutes, just in case. 

𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐝𝐨𝐮 𝐫𝐲𝐮𝐬𝐞𝐢

you know shidou’s the type of bf who yells your name like he’s front row at a concert. “THAT’S MY GIRL, BABY! YEAH, SHOW ‘EM WHO’S BOSS!” he’s practically hanging over the railing, shirt half unbuttoned, hair wild from how many times he’s run his fingers through it in excitement. the man is hoarse by halftime from screaming praise at you. when you land a perfect corner kick, he turns to the random dude next to him and slaps his shoulder. “DID YOU SEE THAT? THAT’S MY GIRLFRIEND. LIKE, ACTUALLY. I’M DATING HER.” post-game, he practically tackles you with a hug, sweaty jersey be damned. he grins like a maniac, pressing wet, obnoxious kisses all over your face. “fuck, you were insane out there. mvp. the whole field was yours.”

𝐢𝐭𝐨𝐬𝐡𝐢 𝐬𝐚𝐞

sae acts like it’s no big deal. like, whatever, you’re just a pro soccer player, no big deal. but he cannot help himself. whenever someone even vaguely mentions soccer, he casually slips your name into the convo like it’s nothing. “yeah, my girlfriend scored twice in her last match. no big deal.” except he says it so smugly that people have to ask. and oh, does he love when they ask. his voice is flat, but the glimmer in his eyes is unmistakable as he shows them a highlight reel of you absolutely cooking defenders. and when you spot him watching from the sidelines during your game? he’ll give you the laziest little wave, like he’s totally unbothered, but the way his lips twitch ever so slightly when you look his way? yeah, he’s so proud. 

𝐢𝐬𝐚𝐠𝐢 𝐲𝐨𝐢𝐜𝐡𝐢

isagi is basically your personal hype man. he knows all your stats by heart – goals, assists, minutes played – and he’s ready to recite them at a moment’s notice. before your match, he’s pacing by the tunnel, hyping you up like a coach. “you’ve got this. you’ve been nailing your shots in practice. just play your game, baby.” and when you score? oh, he loses it. he’s standing, hands in his hair, eyes wide with disbelief like he just watched you score the winning world cup goal. “holy crap, that was insane!” he’s clapping so hard his palms are probably red. post-game, he hugs you so tight you can barely breathe, grinning like a fool. “i’m so proud of you. like, ridiculously proud.”

𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐡𝐢𝐫𝐚 𝐦𝐞𝐠𝐮𝐫𝐮

bachira is a menace on the sidelines. he’s doing little soccer tricks with a stray ball while you play, calling out your name every chance he gets. “go get ‘em, baby! woooo!” when you nutmeg an opponent, he full-on sprints down the sideline like a deranged golden retriever, yelling, “MEGURU’S GIRL, MEGURU’S GIRL!!!” when you win, he storms the field, despite the officials yelling at him to stay back. he picks you up and spins you around, planting kisses all over your face. “you were sooo cool! did you see yourself? wait, of course you did, you were right there! but still!! you were SO COOL.” and yes, he absolutely posts 30 blurry photos of you with captions like, “my goat gf 🐐💖.”

𝐦𝐢𝐤𝐚𝐠𝐞 𝐫𝐞𝐨

reo buys box seats just so he can get a better view of you. he’s wearing designer sunglasses even though he’s indoors, and he sips his expensive sparkling water all casually, acting totally chill. but the second you make a play, he drops the rich guy act. suddenly, he’s standing, clapping loudly and shouting, “YES, BABY! THAT’S MY GIRL!” he’s the type to bring an entire bouquet of roses to your post-game interview and place them dramatically in your arms with a grin. “for the most talented player on the field.” and if the cameras catch it? good. he wants the world to see how proud he is of you. 

𝐧𝐚𝐠𝐢 𝐬𝐞𝐢𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐫𝐨

nagi might seem lazy about everything else in life, but when it comes to your games? he’s fully locked in. he shows up wearing your jersey, hair still messy from a nap, but his eyes are glued to you the entire time. he may not be the loudest cheerer, but his voice is the one you hear the most clearly. every time you make a play, he leans forward and mumbles, “so cool…” under his breath, a small smile tugging at his lips. when you win, he’s the first one to greet you, still half-sleepy but grinning ear to ear. he loops his arms around your waist and leans into you like he’s about to fall asleep. “mmm… you’re my mvp. carry me home?” (bro’s gonna break your back)

𝐤𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐬𝐮 𝐭𝐚𝐛𝐢𝐭𝐨

karasu cannot shut up about you. he’s straight-up posting memes like, “my gf could outplay your entire team.” at your game, he’s the guy standing by the railing with his arms spread wide like, “did you guys see that?!?!” if you score, he’s turning to random strangers like, “that’s my girl. mine. you see that? yeah, i go home to her.” when you walk off the field, he greets you with the cockiest grin. “pfft. that was light work for you. wasn’t even a challenge.” but then he softens, brushing some hair out of your face. “seriously, though… you were unreal out there. my little soccer star.”

𝐨𝐭𝐨𝐲𝐚 𝐞𝐢𝐭𝐚

otoya is leaning against the stadium railing like a walking thirst trap, winking at you every time your eyes meet. “hey, number ten, you single?” he calls out dramatically, earning glares from nearby fans. when you land a perfect free kick, he lets out an exaggerated, impressed whistle. “damn, babe. you always this sexy when you destroy your opponents?” post-game, he slinks over with that flirty grin, resting his arm around your shoulders. “you were so hot out there. i think i need a private post-game interview with you. maybe in my hotel room?”

𝐲𝐮𝐤𝐢𝐦𝐢𝐲𝐚 𝐤𝐞𝐧𝐲𝐮

yukimiya is all soft smiles and heart eyes. he watches you like you hung the moon, his hands clasped together as if he’s witnessing a miracle. when you score, he exhales softly, eyes filled with admiration. he’s not the type to shout, but you can feel the warmth in his applause. post-game, he greets you with open arms, pressing the softest kiss to your temple. “you were incredible,” he murmurs, voice full of awe. he gently tucks a strand of hair behind your ear, his eyes glimmering with so much pride it makes your chest ache. 

© 𝐤𝐱𝐬𝐚𝐠𝐢

Daddy Steve.... I just woke up...

Hi mommy Kinny. For a Steve request, how about enemy’s! Dad steve. Like the person you hate the most has the hottest dad oops 🤭

The Cheerleader

18+

The captain of the football team is a total bitch. Her dad's pretty fucking hot, though.

Content Warning: DILF!Steve x Cheerleader!Reader, age gap (around 20 yrs), smut (public sex, daddy kink, degradation kink, face fucking, rough sex, cream pie), no aftercare.

"We won't stop, we won't be beat! Falcons never taste defeat! Goooooo Falcons!"

You kick your leg straight up at the end of the chant, waving your pom-poms with a wide grin. Cheering for the football team isn't exactly your favorite part of cheerleading, but it has to be done. It feel juvenile and basic compared to the intense cheer competitions you take part in, but part of college cheering unfortunately includes supporting the sports teams.

No matter how irritating the players are.

"Make sure there aren't any of your feathers laying around, this time," Jamie spits bitterly as you and the others walk off the field. "Annoying ass chants."

"Excuse me?" You ask pointedly while Davina attempts to pull you away.

"You heard me," Jamie doubles down, glaring at you. "Get off the damn field; your embarrassing dance is over."

Rolling your eyes, you pull your arm out of Davina's grip before stepping closer to Jamie. "You know, maybe if you stopped losing so badly, game after game, you wouldn't be so frustrated," You say casually. "The only thing embarrassing about what I do is the fact that it's for such a shitty team."

"What would Coach Wilson say if he heard you talk about the team like that?" She retorts bitterly.

You start to walk away, shrugging. "I don't know, Rogers. If you ever take his dick out of your mouth long enough for you to ask him, let me know what he says."

Her eyes widen with rage as she lunges for you. "Bitch!" She yells, immediately being held back by her teammates.

Jamie Margaret Rogers is your worst enemy. It's been that way since freshman year, and you don't see it ever changing. For some inexplicable reason, the two of you have never gotten along. Something about the other sets off the ugliest side of you both, leading to blow ups and fights if you're ever in the same vicinity for too long.

"One day, one of you is gonna end up killing the other," Davina warns as she leads you over to the bleachers. "Do you know how traumatic that's gonna be for me to witness?"

"She's fucking insufferable," You mutter, slamming your ass down on an empty seat.

You manage to calm down somewhat as the game begins, doing your best to ignore the fact that you despise the captain of the team. Time passes and soon it's halftime.

"What's she doing?" Davina asks with a frown, her eyes on Jamie who is currently rushing up the stairs of the bleachers.

"I swear to God, if she starts on me again, I'm gonna rip her head off," You grumble, sitting up and preparing yourself for another round.

She reaches your row and you're sure she's about to yell at you - until she grins widely. "Dad, you came!"

Oh.

Out of curiosity, you turn to the left to watch her as she talks to her father. When you get a glimpse of him, though, you do a double take. Why the fuck is he so hot?

After a brief conversation, Jamie rushes back down to the field, leaving you with wide eyes.

"Bro," You utter, gripping Davina's forearm. "Please tell me why Jamie's dad is the most attractive man I've ever seen."

Assuming that you're kidding, Davina looks over with a smirk - before it drops completely. "Holy shit."

Blinking a few times, you release her arm and state, "I'm gonna fuck him."

She snorts, narrowing her eyes at you. "You cannot fuck Jamie's dad. He's married."

"Her parents are divorced. Remember that essay she wrote about it?" You ask, feeling your heart race. "Oh, my God."

"Have you seen him?" Davina questions you with a scoff. "As if he's single."

"I don't care," You say flippantly. "He's an older man and I'm a cheerleader; he'll be into it. I'm literally going to fuck him. This is the greatest revenge plan."

"Y/N, you can't-"

"See you on the other side," You cut her off and stand to your feet, taking in a deep breath. Letting your adrenaline propel you, you slowly start to walk up to his row. He's focusing on the game, but he gives you a couple of glances as you stand at the side. Instead of saying a single word, you simply send him a smile. When he looks you up and down, his eyes lingering on your short skirt, you know you've got a chance.

The second your eyes meet, you shoot him a wink. He raises a brow at you, and you feel your stomach flip. Fuck. He's so hot.

Sitting next to him is Pietro, your plug, so you walk over to kneel on an empty seat in front of them before leaning over the back of it. "Hey, Piet," You begin, instinctively pushing your chest out. "Can you drop off a gram to my dorm tonight?"

Jamie's dad keeps his eyes forward, doing his best to make it look like he isn't listening to the conversation.

"Sure thing," Pietro replies before lowering his voice. "You gonna pay me in cash this time?"

You laugh at that, leaning closer into him. "How about I just suck your dick again?"

He sighs, rolling his eyes. "You're lucky I have a thing for cheerleaders," Pietro mutters bitterly.

As you get up to walk away, you make eye contact with Jamie's dad who's staring intently at you. You lick your lips before walking past him, making sure to brush your leg against his shoulder as you walk up the stairs and to the back of the stadium.

It takes him four minutes to join you in the parking lot.

He pretends to have only come for a smoke break; lighting a cigarette and leaning against the fence without sparing you a glance. You saunter over to him, coyly smiling as you approach him.

"Can I?" You ask him innocently, glancing down at the cigarette.

His eyes flicker down to you. "It's bad for you."

"Who cares?" You shrug. "Everyone does it."

Turning to you, he leans down and lowers his voice. "The only thing your lips should ever wrap around is a cock," He utters. "And, judging from your conversation with your little friend, you do that plenty."

You tilt your head. "Are you calling me a slut, Mr. Rogers?"

"Depends," He replies, standing up straight. "Are you a slut?"

"Depends," You echo. "Do you want me to be?" Reaching out, you place your hand on his huge bicep. "I can be a good girl, if you want. I can be a virgin who's never so much as kissed a boy. Is what what you're into, Mr. Rogers? You wanna ruin my innocence?"

He swallows thickly before tossing his cigarette to the ground and stamping it out. Without a word, he grabs you by the throat and drags you behind one of the big buses. Clenching his jaw, he pushes you against the side of it and moves his face closer to yours. "How about I just treat you like the fuckin' whore you are?" He suggests with a growl.

You whimper at his words, bucking your hips up in an attempt to feel his crotch rub against yours.

Tutting, he shakes his head. "Look at you," He mumbles softly. "So desperate for an old man's attention, hmm?"

"Please," You whine lowly.

"Please what, little girl?" He questions you with a smug look.

"Please, use me," You whisper. "I'm worthless unless I have your cock in one of my holes."

His eyes light up as he smirks. "Such a well-trained whore," He mutters, mostly to himself. "You crave my approval, don't you?"

"Yes," You mewl, clinging onto him. "Please, Sir."

"Someone messed you up real bad, hmm?" He asks. "And now all you wanna do is make daddy proud?"

Your heart skips a beat. "Yes, please."

"You dumb little girl," He coos teasingly, stroking your cheek. "Don't you fret. Daddy's gonna give you plenty of opportunity to make him proud, alright?"

"Thank you, daddy," You say, looking up at him with wide eyes.

Looking you up and down, he licks his lips. "Get on your knees."

You obey him, wincing as the hard gravel presses into your knees.

"Aw," He says with a pout. "Does it hurt, baby?"

Nodding silently, you lift your knee up slightly to relieve it of the pressure.

The kindness disappears completely from his face, and it's as though he's become a different person. "Open your fucking mouth, slut," He orders gruffly. "I don't care if your knees bleed. Be of some use and suck my cock."

"Yes, Sir," You reply. The next few moments pass by in a blur and then his dick is halfway down your throat. Your mind is free of thought and all you can focus on is the darkening blue of his eyes which are staring down at you. His hands grab fistfuls of your hair and he uses the makeshift pigtails as handles to assist him in fucking your face.

"Fuck, just like that," He groans, watching his cock disappear and reappear in and out of your mouth. "Taking it like the good little slut I knew you'd be."

You swirl your tongue around his shaft, eager to bring him pleasure. He pulls harder on your hair, making tears spring into your eyes and shots of electric pleasure course through your body.

"Look at how much prettier you are with your mouth stuffed," He coos, stroking away a stray tear from your cheek. "I bet your pussy will be even prettier once I stuff her."

Your eyes roll back and you moan around his cock, squeezing your legs together in a desperate attempt to feel some friction. Mr. Rogers notices, and the sight makes him smirk.

"Are you getting wet for me, baby?" He asks you teasingly. "Sucking cock makes you horny, doesn't it?"

You nod as best you can, keeping your eyes on his.

"Can you feel yourself getting wet?" He questions with a sly grin as he continues fucking your throat. "That pussy's begging for daddy's cock, isn't she?"

"Mmm," Is all you can respond with, making him groan at the vibrations you send through his dick.

"Fuck," He hisses under his breath. Just as his cock twitches against your tongue, he quickly pulls out of your mouth, wanting to save himself for your cunt. With no gentleness, he grabs your arm and pulls you back up to your feet. Then, he places his hands under each of your thighs before lifting you up and pushing you back against the bus.

"Daddy," You mumble weakly, taken aback by his dominance. It's been a while since you've had good sex, and you most definitely weren't expecting to get it today, or from Jamie's dad.

"Already brain-dead and I haven't even stretched that pussy out, yet," Mr. Rogers mumbles mostly to himself. He pulls up your tennis skirt and clenches his jaw when he sees the black, Spandex shorts you're wearing underneath. "Fuck's sake." Without warning, he puts you back down on the ground before turning you around and pressing your face to the bus. "It's your own fault I have to take you like this, so no complaining about me fucking you too deep. Got it?"

"Yes, Sir," You whimper, heart racing at the thought of it. You could barely take his entire length into your mouth, and so you're more than thrilled to know he's about to drill it into you.

Your shorts are roughly pulled down, taking your panties with them and leaving you bare. They're tight around your knees, but you have no time to complain as Mr. Rogers is already sinking into your soaking pussy. Once he's a few inches deep, he wraps one hand around your throat and grips your waist with the other, keeping you firmly in place.

"Don't be afraid to be loud," He whispers slyly in your ear. "Nobody will hear you."

With that, he slams the rest of his cock into you, and you immediately let out a cry. He doesn't give you time to adjust and begins fucking you hard and fast, brushing against your cervix with every thrust. Your eyelids drop and you can't hear anything outside of his groans and your bodies slapping together, your vision blurring.

"Don't you dare pass out on me," He grumbles, bringing his hand to your cheek and slapping it, pulling you out of your head. "C'mon. I wanna hear you, slut."

"Feels so good, Mr. Rogers," You whine as he kisses your jaw.

"Mmm, that's a good girl," He moans lowly, slapping your ass. "Such a good girl, knowing exactly what you're made for. Made for taking cock."

"Yes, Sir," You respond, shivering when his teeth sink into your neck.

"Your pussy is golden," He growls, pounding into your faster. "You're gonna milk me fuckin' dry."

"Please, daddy, cum inside me," You beg him, feeling your end approach.

"Not until you cum for me, baby," He says, tightening his grip on your throat. "Rub that clit. Show me how you play with yourself when you think about older men like me railing you, like the horny little slut you are."

You're convinced that his words alone could bring you to orgasm, every sentence setting you off and flooding you with pleasure. As he ordered, you bring a hand down to your clit and begin rubbing it in fast circles, desperate to cum. Mr. Rogers looks down over your shoulder, groaning as he watches you touch yourself.

"Ah, fuck," He grunts. "Gonna make me cum so hard, baby, don't stop."

"Daddy," You whine, throwing your head back as your stomach flips. "I'm gonna- daddy, cumming!"

He thrusts harder when he feels you gushing, tightening around his cock. Unable to hold back, he lets go and cums deep inside you, letting out a guttural groan. Falling forward with his face in your neck, he thrusts a few more times, giving you every drop of his seed.

You're breathing heavily, still feeling aftershocks while you come down from your high. At some point, you feel him pull out, and immediately you realize how sore you are. Mr. Rogers helps pull your panties and shorts back up, but that's the extent of his kindness as he steps back, leaving you there to recover against the side of the bus.

After a few moments, the sound of a lighter brings you back to reality and you turn around to see him smoking against the fence. Finding your footing, you slowly walk over to him, take the cigarette from his mouth, and take a long drag. He watches as you slowly blow out the smoke, and the two of you continue sharing it in silence.

The crowd eventually bursts into loud cheers and you can tell that the game is over. Leaving Mr. Rogers behind, you make your way back to the field, hoping there aren't any visible marks on your body from the sinful act you just committed.

Jamie and her teammates are making their way to the changing rooms when you stop her in her tracks to give her a smile. "You played amazingly, Jamie," You tell her warmly, earning yourself a confused glare.

"That was a great game, sweetheart," A deep voice adds from behind you, sending a shiver down your spine.

"We lost, Dad," She points out bitterly.

"You still played really well!" You insist with a grin, in a largely better mood than before.

Mr. Rogers steps forward so he's standing next to you and he places a hand on your lower back, making your stomach flutter. "How about I take you and your friend out for a nice meal?" He asks Jamie, whose face contorts at the suggestion.

"Ew, she's not my friend," She tells him with a scoff.

"That's okay, Mr. Rogers, but thank you so much," You say politely, smiling up at him. "I hope to see you at the next game."

Jamie grimaces at your words, rolling her eyes and turning away.

Mr. Rogers shoots you a wink while patting your ass. "I wouldn't miss it for the world."

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